


Protect and Serve

by leoraine



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-12
Updated: 2011-02-12
Packaged: 2017-10-15 14:38:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/161807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoraine/pseuds/leoraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for SGA LFWS Round 1. Story about the team, from the POV of Sheppard's gun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Protect and Serve

**Author's Note:**

> Title: Protect and serve
> 
> Author: Nicol Leoraine
> 
> Beta-Reader: Tania (Pennythepants)
> 
> Disclaimer: Stargate belongs to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc., no infringements of any rights is intended.
> 
>  
> 
> Prompt for the Round: Write a fic in first person using an inanimate object as POV. Must feature at least one member from the team but it can also have anyone else. The fic must start with "I am".

I am John Sheppards's gun. My name is P90 and I am his trusty companion. I shoot when he wants me to, saving his and his team members' lives when needed. I like John Sheppard. He's a good soldier and he takes good care of me. There are times when I'm not so happy with him though. For instance, I'm dropped a lot. I don't like being dropped. When I am picked up by the villagers, they usually don't know what to do with me. They pull and push, they don't know how to oil me and when they finally find my trigger, they drop me again from fear. But the worst is when my bullets run out and they still want me to shoot. They get angry, and in the end I always end up back on the ground, where I lay in the dust and dirt, waiting for John or his team to find me. I know some of my brothers have been left behind in fights, but they have yet to abandon me. And, of course, there are times when I'm not too happy to be in John's team. There was this one mission where I ended up jammed between a wall and a door, to keep said door open. It wasn't pretty and I thought my mission would end there, the pressure was so awful. I still have a little chip on my hilt from that action. But then Ronon came, pulled me out and pushed me into McKay's hand. It was bloody and I almost slipped, but he tightened his hold on me.

"Don't lose that gun, McKay, it's one of my favorites," John slurred through gritted teeth before falling into an unconscious heap. Truth be told, I thought McKay would let go, but he clutched me during the whole way back to the gate, until John vanished into the infirmary. It was a really nasty mission, for all of us. Lucky Sheppard survived, or I don't know what team I would've ended up with. Ronon wouldn't take me, because he has his knives and his blaster and a whole bunch of favorite guns. But he really loves his knives. Teyla might take me in case of emergency, but she doesn't like me or guns in general. She's a good fighter, but she appreciates her sticks more than any automatic weapon.

That leaves only McKay, the scientist, but then, he doesn't need a gun. He's way better at getting rid of problems with his brain. Shoot, the man can terminate a whole solar system, and akin to him, I'm really small caliber. He doesn't like guns though, and guns don't like him. There's even a story behind it, and it's quite funny. I heard rumors about Dr. McKay unclipping the magazine from a pistol in the middle of a fight. Poor brother of mine. That must've been shameful, something akin to dropping your pants in the middle of an auditorium filled with the most genial people of planet Earth; at least that was what McKay compared the experience to. The fun thing about that was that it didn't happen to me. I'm also happy I didn't participate in the 'train your scientist how to shoot' project. I dread to think about the horror stories that are going around about that.

Ah, there's my man. He's coming to prep me for another mission. His fingers slide over the chip in my hilt and I wonder if he's thinking of getting another gun. But he only smiles a little, as if remembering something, then checks my magazine. I wonder how many times he'll pick me up from the dirt and bring me back home. In the end, we're a lot alike. We both have chips and scars. We both want to serve and protect the people around us. And when we fall, we know there'll always be someone to pick us up. I really couldn't belong to a better team.

The End


End file.
